


I Don't Mind (If you Fuck up my Life)

by Emerald_Fire3510



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Attempted Gaslighting, Blood, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, F/F, F/M, Found family Geralt and Yenn and Ciri, Gen, Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg are Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parents, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Guilt Tripping To the Extreme, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Inspired by Music, Internalized Guilt, Jaskier POV mostly, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Like, Lots of focus on Color, M/M, Monster of the Week, Monsters (feat Blackbear) by All Time Low, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Smut, So much angst, They wanna adopt Jask, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Tortured Jaskier | Dandelion, because author said so, colors are So Important, playing fast and loose with canon y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Fire3510/pseuds/Emerald_Fire3510
Summary: Jaskier officially hated Witches, Wizards, Mages, Sorcerers, Sorceresses, and anything else that could do the casting of Curses.Of course, that included some creatures he was rather fond of–Incubi were good with a little give and take, Fauns were devious little tricksters that he got along rather well with beyond that one encounter in the Valley his most famed ballad makes note of-but those, and various other neutral creatures were not what he currently loathed.No, it was the damned spell-casting humans he found himself most rightly displeased with. He found himself justified in his vehement anger toward them, but Geralt would just scoff or shake his head and put Roach into a Trott on off down the road, using one of his almost-smiles he has reserved for Jaskier and Jaskier alone, and–Best stop that train of thought. It wouldn’t matter what Geralt would or wouldn’t do, because….well.Because Geralt isn’t physically in this situation, even if he is the main topic of it.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s), Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	1. Prelude in: Curses and Broken things Op. 1, No.1

**Author's Note:**

> Alpha'd and Beta'd by the wonderful Professordrarry, who is not only a fantastic author, but the platonic love of my life and a damn-near saint for her patience with my tomfoolery and indiocy.
> 
> Story will update as I can have it done, it's in progress and just something I do as I can. no set schedule for updates. Will be posted in a loosely connected arch and in mostly coherent chapters.

Jaskier officially hated Witches, Wizards, Mages, Sorcerers, Sorceresses, and anything else that could do the casting of Curses.

Of course, that included some creatures he was  _ rather _ fond of—Incubi were good with a little give and take, Fauns were devious little tricksters that he got along rather well with beyond that  _ one _ encounter in the Valley his most famed ballad makes note of—but those, and various other neutral creatures were  _ not _ what he currently loathed.

No, it was the damned spell-casting  _ humans _ he found himself most rightly displeased with. He found himself justified in his vehement anger toward them, but Geralt would just scoff or shake his head and put Roach into a trott on off down the road, using one of his almost-smiles he has reserved for Jaskier and Jaskier alone, and—

Best stop that train of thought. It wouldn’t matter what Geralt would or  _ wouldn’t _ do, because….well.

Because Geralt isn’t physically  _ in _ this situation, even if he is the main topic of it.

As of right now, Geralt was sleeping away peacefully within this shabby inn that resided in the walls of this podunk, drivel of a Hamlet. The Witcher had his Amethyst-eyed, part-elven lover wrapped in the sheets of their bed, and honestly, Jaskier didn’t understand how he came about forgiving  _ her _ so fast after the Incident with The Dragons when  _ she _ was the ass that shattered Geralt’s heart, who then shattered Jaskier’s own. Last he heard they were looking for Geralt’s Child Surprise together—which was  _ dreadfully  _ domestic of them, the cunts—and were planning on raising the child back in Kaer Morhen, where she’d be watched over and protected not just by the bitterly strong Sorceress but by The Witcher Order as well.

What Rubbish.

A clearing of a throat beside him made him sigh and roll his eyes. Jaskier turned toward the Bastard and frowned. “You know, all I have to do is scream and he would come running down...or vault from the window, right?”

“Yes, but you won’t, will you? Not if you want The White Wolf and his little  _ pet  _ to stay safe,” The man chuckled, reaching up and brushing his fingers across the magical brand on the back of Jaskier’s throat. The bard shivered and tried to shy away from the touch, his face the perfect picture of anger and disgust. “Oh, don’t look so disgruntled Songbird. It’s your own fault you got caged.” he crooned, his voice the perfect mockery of a doting lover.

Jaskier looked away from the man completely and looked up to the window he knew down in his heart that was Geralt’s. When they left tonight, his heart would forever be with Geralt. As they left with the wind, Jaskier’s will to live would stay behind and cling messily to his perfectly imperfect Witcher.

_ Way to be dramatic, Dandelion _ . Jaskier mentally scoffed at himself...no matter how true it was.

“Can we go now, Hynryck?” Jaskier sighed, looking down to the ground. The muted tones of his clothing bothered him almost as much as the situation he found himself in, but he found himself unable to care. He could still feel the Snake-shaped brand pulsating on his neck, the feeling of its tail tightening down his spine as the insignia reacted to its creator’s touch. It burned underneath his skin and around his spine, and not for the first time he wished to escape the feel of it, this man, and everything else tied to him, but he was right.

He was the idiot Bird that flew into the trap set by a cunning Snake.

“Mmm, for now, Little Bird. But you know what I need of you, and you know the conditions of our little mark.” pale-green eyes locked with cornflower blue ones, and Jaskier felt a flash of anger snap inside his belly like a whip.

“Oh yes, how could I forget...You want them both dead, Ciri in your venomous hands, and every  _ damned _ time I ever try to talk of your little  _ lovemark _ to anyone but you, it’ll tighten on my spine until eventually, it snaps my bones. Do try not to bore me with the repetitive drivel of your reminders.” Jaskier answered snidely in a venomous hiss. It was all a false bravado, of course—Jaskier was frankly  _ terrified _ of the outcome of this little adventure. Having been in Hynryck’s absolutely horrendous care for half a year now, he found himself losing a bit of himself each day with the burden of the guilt that now enclosed his foolish heart for ever falling into this man’s charms, arms, and bed.

Jaskier swallowed thickly and looked once more at the window of the one who he happily will go—and  _ had _ gone—to the ends of the earth for.

_ I’m sorry, Geralt. I’m so, so sorry _ . He thought even as the Madman beside him opened up an untraceable portal. Before they walked through the snow-white void, Jaskier let one of his rings fall to the ground; it was the one that Geralt had given him to put on his pinkie finger. A golden Buttercup, twined around a silver wolf’s head. He loved that ring, for more then just it’s simplistic beauty. He loved it because, at the time the gift was given, he had thought—well, no matter what he thought up ‘til now.

He sighed as they both stepped through the portal to wherever Hynryck was leading them, his heart bleeding as the sound of the ring falling into the dirt was gobbled up and swallowed into the pitch of the night.


	2. Prelude in: Dreams and Breaking Things, Op. 1, No.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Happy 2021. Anyone else feel like the mascot of this year is a Gender-fluid Redneck in a lacy floral sundress with a flower crown, smoking a stick of dynamite and holding a beer with clunky cowboy boots? No? Aight.
> 
> TW for this chapter: Torture, Attempted Gaslighting, Attempted Manipulation, Mentions of Blood, and Allusions to Nightmares

One minute, Jaskier was camped on the side of the road, strumming his lute lovingly with the fire low and intimate, the stars shining kindly above the treetops of the forest. Everything was cast in the soft, gentle yellow-orange haze of the fire.

The silhouette of another was in the corner of his eye, their low chuckle achingly familiar yet unknown. They sat in companionable silence, the feeling of safety and comfort thrumming contentedly in Jaskier’s veins. He saw a flash of silver tinted gold, and felt a bitter-sweet little ache in the left of his breast. He turned his head, opening his mouth to _ask_ , but between one blink and the next, the Shadow of his companion was gone, the fire naught but cold ashes and the forest no longer inviting. He was plunged in darkness.

Jaskier stood up straight, and looked askance around his no-longer-camp, the feeling of being watched making his blood run cold with fear.

A crack, a groan, and suddenly Jaskier was alert like a hunted rabbit, whipping his head every which way to try to pinpoint the noise but his eyes saw nothing but how the woods seemed to shrink around his person.

At the sound of another twig snapping, he bolted.

Branches ripped at his puffy sleeves, snagging on his dainty cheeks and soft hair, and he couldn’t bring himself to worry at the sight he made. He flew across the ground like never before, the… whatever it was, close behind. He knew he needed to run, and he needed to run _far_.

Jaskier didn’t know why he was so terrified. It wasn’t the normal fear of an angry, jealous husband. No, this felt like some other-worldly creature left from the Conjunction was chasing him, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care about the tears stinging the abrasions on his face.

He could feel the hair standing on the back of his neck, as the haunting notes of a song he couldn’t be arsed to recognise rang and his heart thudded beneath his breast. His footfalls felt like the tolling bells of Death were upon him, the forest surrounding him black as pitch, and hungry. He could feel it in the air— cold and wet as if a storm was brewing.

He daren’t glance over his shoulder.

The monster he could feel encroaching on him made no sound, as Jaskier stumbled numbly through root and branch alike. His senses were screaming at him, wailing within his heart about the _danger_ , about how he was _doomed_. How could he be anything but, with the beast's breath panting against his back? The jaws of Death opening up to clamp down on the meal before it? Jaskier threw a hand behind himself, clenching his eyes tight and turning his head away, fear making him act in ways Geralt would kill him for. 

_(Geralt...where was he? Was he the one he was just with? He doesn’t remember, he doesn’t_ know. _)_

Just as razor-sharp teeth clamped onto his flesh, Jaskier...

Jaskier woke up.

He was chained to the wall, and it took but a moment before the pain registered again in his mind, and Jaskier shrieked. His throat was raw, no sound coming out of his throat. Distantly, he noticed Hynryck standing above him, taking the smouldering hot-poker out of Jaskier's shoulder and grinning as Jaskier's chest heaved with each gulped breath.

"Mmm...what a lovely smell," the man purred, referring to the scent of burned flesh permeating the air around them in the little hovel Hynryck called home.

Jaskier whimpered pathetically, yanking at the chains that kept his arms painfully suspended above him as his body trembled from the abuse. He didn’t even know Hynryck had let him sleep, hadn’t known he’d been able to _fall_ asleep. The dream still dragged at his mind, making his heart jack-rabbit with fear as, with clouded, frantic eyes, he looked around his cage. He needed to escape. His body was alight with pain and agony. The lashings on his naked back ached and Jaskier could sware one or two of them were still sluggishly bleeding, trailing down his spine and hips like the trail of a snail.

He wondered when Hynryck would be done with today’s torture, but after his last cock-up… Jaskier wouldn’t be surprised if he died today.

Hynryck shifted in his mind, and he winced as the mage put the hot poker back into the fire before walking to the bound musician. 

“Oh, my lovely little Songbird, how you sing so sweetly for me when we have these little sessions...but you know I could _never_ kill you, don’t you?”He crooned, reaching up to lovingly caress Jaskier’s cheek.

It felt forced, faked, like he was copying what he had seen _others_ do for their lovers. Jaskier slumped, feeling inscrutable exhaustion. He could feel the Mage prodding at his mind, the walls he’d built beginning to show the wear of the constant onslaught it had been through. Soon, Jaskier wouldn’t have the mental where-with-all to hold the Mage back anymore. For now, the Bard refused to let him in.

Jaskier took in a shuddering breath, weakly lifting his eyes and trying to look at his captor. 

“You know I love you, don’t you, my Little Bird? I only do this because you make me.” 

Internally, Jaskier scoffed, outwardly it was but a mere exhalation. 

“If you hadn’t dallied, you would already be with the _Witcher_ and his pets. We would have what we want in our grasp, but _no,”_ Hynryck hissed, “You chose to delay; _you_ chose to ignore my pushing and prodding to hurry, _you_ are the one to blame for all of this.”

 _No, that’s what_ you _want, Bastard._ Jaskier thought venomously, as the Mage pounded against his mental fortifications, his onslaught beginning again. Jaskier must weather it, he _must_. He doesn’t know what will happen once Hynryck succeeds, and he is not eager to find out.

Hynryck trailed his hand slowly down Jaskier’s jaw, his neck, his chest until his hand rested against Jaskier’s shoulder. His kind smile twisted, marring his face, as suddenly his thumb _dug into Jaskier’s seared flesh_.

Jaskier saw nothing but grey, yet he did not sing. 

He _screamed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, euh? Hope you enjoyed the update! For some reason my brain is labeling these like one would classical music, so, that's fun. Again, my dearest friend the lovely Professordrarry beta'd for me! AND the amazingly gifted and sweet Eyesofshinigami! 
> 
> Go give these peeps some love!
> 
> See y'all next time, again my discord is EmeraldFuckingDone3510#8814 if ya wanna chat!!

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me at Discord as EmeraldFuckingDone3510#8814
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


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